Longing A Sex Dean&Cas fic
by jajenshadimose6012
Summary: Since Death restored Sam's soul and installed the wall to keep the memories of hell at bay, Dean has never been more worried for his little brother. More than that, an empty longing has built up inside Dean, an unexpressed frustration of another kind...


Tying a towel around his waist, Dean made his way over to the mirror as he tucked in the edges. Then, with a sigh, he brought a hand up to ruffle his hair, while fixing his gaze on his own reflection. The dark circles under his eyes were what really held his attention the most.

The dark circles. The constant concern permanently etched into his features. Concern for the job. Concern for the lives lost—the blood that was already on his hands. Concern for the souls he had yet to save—the many, many lives that still depended on him. Concern for whether or not he has what it takes to see this whole thing through. And, most of all, more than anything in the world…concern for his brother.

Concern for Sammy. Oh, Sammy. That concern was so instinctive, so second-nature to him…it was practically infused within his very being. It came to him as easily and naturally and breathing. He couldn't _not_ worry about Sam, something deep within him—some deep, intrinsic part of him would never allow it. There were times when Sam's well-being was the only thing in the world to him. The only thing there could be.

Yeah, he fought the good fight more or less for the sake of the greater good—that was pretty much a given. That greater good meant a lot to him, saving the lives of the six billion other people on the planet…that was everything to him. And he would never forsake that, not ever. Some days, that very knowledge that those lives depended on him was the only thing that really kept him going. That gave him the strength to carry on.

But, with Sam…

When it came to Sam, things were just different. It was more than just that. Despite their differences in the past, the many, many things that had come between them and threatened to tear them apart…some part of Dean always knew on some level that he could always rely on his brother. Sam was really all he had left. Yeah, he had Bobby—the man who had at times seemed more like a father to him than his actually father could ever be. And, yeah, he had Cas from time-to-time—at the angel's convenience, that is.

But, never before had he had someone that he could entirely rely on, someone he could entrust himself completely to. No one but Sam. Sam had always had his back, no matter what. He had always been there for Dean. From day one, no one had ever, ever meant more to Dean than his brother did.

Had it not been for Sam, Dean never would've made it this far—the countless times Sam saved his life notwithstanding. It wasn't even Sam saving his physical life that mattered…it was Sam being there, through it all, during the darkest of times, to pull Dean back from that brink and just…just being there. Just knowing, no matter what, he always had someone he could rely on.

And that meant the world—the universe—to Dean…

…but…was it enough?

Was Sammy enough to fill that empty longing in Dean? That…agonizing, burning hole in Dean that he had had ever since that first time he watched their father's back walk out that door. Yes, Dean always understood the why and the how behind it all. He played the dutiful son, he looked out for Sammy, as John had ordered, and he had done a pretty damn good job keeping up with his duties up till now. Saving the world repeatedly, saving Sammy repeatedly…Dean would like to think that if John were still alive, if John were here today…that he would look Dean in the eye and tell him just how proud he was of him.

Afraid this line of thinking would lead to him possibly tearing up, Dean immediately shook his head and diverted his thoughts to something as sarcastic and shallow as possible, needing to make a joke as a way to make this better, if even for a second. "Damn," he muttered, focusing on his reflection. "I really need to get laid."

With that, Dean decided to walk out of the room right now before those traitorous thoughts returned and he did a little too much self-dwelling. Something he so did not need right now. No, naturally, Dean had much bigger fish in the sea. Much more important things to worry about. Things like—wait for it…Sammy.

Death had installed that wall when he restored Sam's soul to keep his memories of hell away, so that he could go on living without the horrors and torment of hell there to constantly plague his mind. Dean had to live with his own fair share of memories from the pit and God, was he so beyond glad that Sammy escaped that stipulation upon his return. Sam had endured a much worse hell than Dean could ever imagine. Being that Sam was caught in the middle of some epic, angelic pissing contest between two of the most legendary angelic brothers—Lucifer and Michael—yeah, Sam's hell was worse than any other hell imaginable. Dean couldn't even begin to comprehend the agonies Sam's soul had undergone, not even with his 40 years of being trapped in the pit.

Still, that wall wasn't even a 100% guarantee—it was a temporary fix until they could find something more permanent and if it didn't last, if it gave way before they found that permanent fix…Dean risked really and truly losing his brother forever. And, that was one risk that Dean would never, ever be willing to take…even if it meant guaranteeing the safety of those other six billion souls out there. Selfish as that might be, Dean would never—

"You were in there for a very long time," a low, familiar voice issued from the darkness, over in the corner by Dean's bed.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean swore, as he started and whipped around to see his favorite angel—or rather, not so favorite at the moment—watching him with that expressionless face he was notorious for.

The light from the bathroom spilled into the room, enough to light up Castiel's features so that Dean could recognize him. Not that he needed to, Dean recognized him enough plenty without needing to see his face.

Dean flipped on the light switch to the crappy motel room and fixed the angel with an agitated glare. "Uncanny timing, Cas. What, you couldn't've waited till I was fully clothed? You had to pop in right now, the instant I got out of the shower?"

"Where's Sam?" Cas asked, ignoring Dean's questions.

Dean narrowed his eyes irritably, not liking the lack of acknowledgment. "Beats me," he said, with a shrug. "Last I saw, our little Sammy was headin' off with some chick he met at the local bar. After margaritas 5, 7, and 9, he got a little more adventurous and decided to shoot for 10 at the lady's place. Hope he scored—the kid's in desperate need of a good lay right about now," Dean added unnecessarily, trying not to think about the very joke he had just made about himself. He really hoped Cas hadn't heard that.

"You're worried about him," Cas noted, not needing to read Dean's mind to know just where his thoughts had been mere moments ago.

"You kidding?" Dean shook his head. "When am I ever _not_ worried about him? His whole life, he's had demons on his ass. God only knows what else has been ridin' him without our knowing it. And now, yeah I can fight off whatever bad mothers are actually stupid enough to show themselves and try to take us on…but that accomplishes nothing. They keep coming back and they keep getting stronger. And smarter. No matter what I do, they always seem to find some way to get to him, and now—"

Dean cut himself off, realizing he had said way more than he had intended to.

"And now what?" Cas prompted, fixing Dean with his trademark look of utter curiosity.

Dean resisted the urge to scoff. "And now nothing. Whatever. It doesn't matter. What's wrong, Cas? You ain't exactly one for social calls so I'm inclined to believe something big is going down. So…what's the what? You need our help for something? One of your badass bros upstairs has the upper hand; inconsiderate bastard's gettin' the better of you and let me guess? You need Sammy and me to hold him down while you beat the answers you need out of him so that you can take your place as the new sheriff in town. 'm I right? You lookin' to be the new big, bad boss man?"

"Not even," Cas corrected, finally stepping out of the shadows and making his way across the room so he stood right before Dean.

"Then what?" Dean demanded, when no further explanation came.

"I wanted to see how things have been since Sam got his soul back," Cas said simply.

"Didn't realize house calls were really in your job description," Dean said, sensing there was something more to this than Cas was letting on.

"They aren't usually," Cas agreed. "But, this is kind of a special situation, wouldn't you say?"

"Heaven and hell have both managed to take a special interest in both of us," Dean pointed out. "I don't find that too encouraging."

"Neither heaven nor hell is behind this, I assure you. This is my personal interest in the matter—it has nothing to do with anything else."

"Oh, well. That's reassuring," Dean said, and Cas couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "Sam's fine," Dean finally said, matter-of-factly, not wanting to elaborate on the matter. "Like I said. Off bangin' some chick. Never better."

"And how is the wall holding up? The one that Death installed—have you noticed anything…off with Sam lately?" Cas pushed.

"Should I have noticed anything off with Sam lately?" Dean asked, not liking the direction of this at all.

"No," Cas said simply. "It should be fine. I'm just checking up on Death's handiwork."

"You don't trust him," Dean assumed.

"I don't trust him," Cas agreed. "I don't_ not_ trust him. He has followed through with his side of the deal…but I most certainly will not let the fate of your brother's soul rest in his hands, by any means."

"Yeah, well, he _is_ Death," Dean agreed. "You're right to be a little reluctant to believe him. Even I am still a bit iffy about what he did…I know he has to have some ulterior motive lurking somewhere. I just have to look a little harder to find out what it is. And I'll find it, I will. Just…not tonight. I need a break…a freakin' night off or something."

When Cas didn't answer, Dean rubbed his face wearily with his hand. "God, I haven't had a decent night off in like, what…let's see how many months has it been since Sammy caught up with me after his return from hell?"

"Five months," Cas said, with utmost certainty.

Dean grimaced slightly, impressed. "How the hell do you know that? I don't even remember that much. Since when is my personal life or well-being for that matter of any interest to you?"

The angel ignored the questions, instead moving on to a line of questioning of his own. "You say Sam is off…banging some chick," Cas tried to use Dean's phrase, clearly not familiar with the concept of it. He spoke the words as dryly and deadpan as he always had, his curiosity getting the better of him, as it always had in the past.

"You don't say," Dean said, trying to hide his smirk. "And? What of it? What's it to you what Sammy does with his happy time?"

"Sam is off having sex with some random girl he met in a bar, while you stay in and sulk over your hatred of this life and all it has cost you. There was a time when roles were reversed, when you were the one manipulating women into bed with your wit and clever pick-up lines, I think you people call them, right?"

"Your point being?" Dean urged, not bothering to acknowledge Cas' words.

"My point being that you haven't had sex in five months—five months to the day—and I'm just curious as to why."

Dean gaped. "What the hell do _you_ know about my sex life, Cas?"

"I know that you haven't has sex since you and Lisa broke up," Cas said, matter-of-factly, as if Dean, himself was just learning this for the first name. "She was the last woman you had sex with."

"Again, how the hell do you know that exactly? What, have you been spying on me or something? Haven't we had this conversation before? How I need my me-time?"

"I haven't been…spying on you, per se," Cas began, uncertain as to how he should go on, how to explain this properly.

" 'Per se'?" Dean repeated. "What the hell does that mean, 'per se'?"

"It means I have been keeping a special eye on you, you might say."

"A peeping eye, you mean," Dean snapped.

"No. It wasn't—I wasn't trying to…I was worried about you. Concerned for your well-being."

"Well," Dean said, sarcasm lacing his words. "I'm no longer Michael's bitch, Cas. Therefore, my well-being is no longer your concern. I can take care of myself and I much prefer to do so without some fucking guardian angel hovering over my shoulder, trying to get his rocks off through means of _my_ sex life."

Cas grimaced slightly at Dean's expression, clearly trying to analyze the meaning behind it, while still pushing forward with his line of questioning. "My concern for your well-being has nothing whatsoever to do with you being Michael's bitch," he assured Dean. "There is no ulterior motive behind my actions, you have to believe that. Dean, I might have made some mistakes and manipulated you in the past, but you have to believe me. You know that I know better now. I have seen the error of my ways and have done everything in my power to make everything right again."

"Yeah," Dean said curtly. "Okay. Great. Fantastic. That still does not explain how you know every little detail of my sex life this past year. Or make me feel any better about it, for that matter. Don't you lie to me, Cas, I'm sick of it. I'm sick of everyone going around behind my back, using flimsy excuses or whatever to manipulate me."

"This isn't about manipulating you, Dean," Cas said, actually averting his eyes in what could only be called embarrassment and almost the slightest hint of shame.

"Then, what is it about?" Dean demanded. "What is going on here? Come on, spit it out, Cas."

"I know what sex means to you," Cas said, sounding so genuinely concerned that Dean almost felt a smirk tug up the corners of his lips. "And to see you abandon that…well, it worries me. I can't help but be curious as to why you are no longer pursuing such…solutions to the trying and demanding life of a hunter."

"I'm sorry. You what?" was all Dean could bring himself to say.

Cas shifted uncomfortably. "My curiosity has me thinking about it and I can't help but wonder why you have not participated in such acts considering how strongly you used to rely upon it and I…"

For the briefest of moments, Dean could've sworn Cas' eyes flitted down to—so help him—his pants. It was only for a moment, but Dean had seen that look before and knew exactly what Cas was looking at.

Before Dean could question it, though, Cas was continuing on. "I saw something the other day on…erectile dysfunction and how some men develop certain conditions or other problems that prevent them from being able to—"

Dean actually stumbled back. "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" He held up his hands in a frantic gesture to stop Cas from going on. "Hey! Okay, first of all…what the _fuck _kind of question is that?" Dean demanded, both appalled and disgusted by the mere concept. "Second of all…you do _not_ ask another dude about his…stuff. Okay? That is just…yeah. Not cool. You don't do that. Ever. Third of all, haven't you ever heard the expression 'curiosity killed the cat'? Cause yeah, one of these days, that curiosity of yours is gonna be the death of you. I'm telling you."

"And, fourth of all," Dean continued on, interrupting Cas' protests when he opened his mouth to speak. "There is nothing wrong with my ability to get _anything_ up whatsoever. Hell, I'll get it up right here, right now—I will do it!"

"And…" Cas finally spoke, once Dean finished ranting and just stared at the angel, waiting for a response. "…through what means is such a task achieved?" Curiosity and the slightest hint of frustration filled the angel's features, as he tried desperately to understand this particular aspect of humanity.

Dean had taught him so, so much about the precious value and sanctity of humanity, and he yearned to have Dean teach him this too. While being an angel was technically supposed to qualify him as omniscient, there were certain things that he did not know. Things he could never know until he experienced them for himself…or until he could convince Dean to push past his evasiveness and explain such matter to him. Though, something told Cas the latter was damn near impossible.

Dean felt like he had just been bitch slapped…about a dozen times over. What. The. Fuck? Did Cas really just say that? Was Cas really asking what Dean _thought_ he was asking? Ugh, dear God. Please, God, do not let him be asking what Dean thought he was asking…he could not handle any more right now.

It felt like an eternity had passed before Dean could bring himself to speak, before his mouth could remember how to form the syllables and shape them into actual somewhat intelligible, coherent words. "It's not…you can't…" Dean cut himself off abruptly, realizing he had no means available whatsoever to accurately explain such a matter to Cas.

"It's not so easy to…explain." Now Dean shifted awkwardly. "You don't—I don't know. You have to be, I don't know, erotically charged…or the potential to _become_ erotically charged…you know? First?"

"I see," Cas said, though his tone contradicted his words. The scattered yet somehow simultaneously focused look in his eyes confirmed that his mind was reeling as he pieced it all together and tried to sort out the puzzle before him. Then, so abruptly Dean nearly fell over from the impact of the words, Cas asked, "So then…do I have the potential to erotically charge you?"

"What?" Dean cried out, his eyes widening in shock. "No!" he said, a little too defensively.

Cas nodded, oblivious to the offense Dean had taken to the insinuation. "Why not?" he finally asked, making Dean practically squirm with his discomfort.

Dean gave a harsh laugh. "Because you're a dude, for starters!" he said, gesturing to Cas as if the angel had somehow missed that particular fact. "And that's just the tip of the ice berg!" Dean added, before Cas could say anything else. "I much prefer my sexual partners to very much lack the Y-chromosome and come complete with a JJ and a nice rack on her person! And a great ass doesn't hurt either."

"Prefer," Cas pointed out, using Dean's words against him. "But, preferences mean nothing in the long run."

"Whatever!" Dean staggered back a couple more steps when Cas made to advance towards him. "I'm still not having sex with a dude! Ever! End of discussion."

"Then, tell me, why exactly have you forsaken sex with women?" Cas pushed. "There's more to it, I know there is. The way you look lately, that emptiness in your eyes…it kills me to see you like this. There is some empty void within you, some deep, dark abyss that nothing—not even Sam—has been able to fill. And I can't stand that. I can't stand seeing you like this."

"What the hell does it even matter to you?" Dean demanded, backing up until he hit the wall, realizing he had nowhere else to go. Oh, shit. This was _not_ looking good.

"You matter to me, Dean," Cas responded. "Whether or not you want to believe that, you do. And, Sam. But, Sam can only do so much for you. And, I have to do something—I need to do something. I cannot stand by and watch you suffer anymore."

"So you offer sex?" Dean snapped. "That's your solution? You couldn't come up with anything else!"

"Sex has always been a kind of…release for you throughout your life, hasn't it?" Cas wondered.

"One could say that, yes," Dean agreed. "One of many sorts. Physically, emotionally, mentally, you name it. Yeah. It's a release. But, it's not one I'm looking to get into with you. With any…non-female creature."

"Then what?" Cas asked. "What do I do?"

"Nothing!" Dean replied, voice frantic. "You don't do anything."

"I can't," Cas said, voice harder than Dean had ever heard it…but it was more than that. There was the slightest hint of affection lingering behind the words as well, an affection that earlier Dean had not picked up on.

"Well, tough," Dean said, refusing to acknowledge that affection. "You need to get out of here, Cas. Now." Dean gestured with his hand for Cas to leave. He didn't. "Cas!" Dean nearly yelled. "Leave! Now!"

"Are you going to make me?" Cas asked, his face and voice taking on a whole new quality, one that was new to Dean. Dean didn't even have a term for it. Nothing really described it for what it was. Nothing could. It was just…different. New. "Because you're going to have to," Cas warned. "I am not leaving. I am not going anywhere, not until I know for sure."

"Not until you know what?" Dean's voice wasn't quite as hard as he had intended it to be, on account of being thrown off by that indiscernible quality in Cas' voice.

And, with that, before Dean knew what was happening—or could bring himself to stop it—the angel strode boldly across the room and, without hesitation or any thought whatsoever for that matter, brought his lips to Dean's in a hard, crushing kiss.


End file.
